Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (15 page)

Whatever Ordoñez had said about the murders themselves, the most useful information was that Alex Orson and his cohorts would be passing through Ridge City, and using the suppliers that lived in the town to continue their journey. Murderers always slipped up, and Orson proved it. They'd find him in the city. And when they did, his little adventure would come to a quick end.

Henry Machry arrived early at work that morning, as he had done the previous two days. Alex's case and its massive flood of paperwork had lately been running him ragged. He bade good morning to Dave as he passed his office, then arrived at his own workspace and sat down at his desk. He began dealing with another case of his, not desiring to think about Alex that morning.
Solving murder mysteries wasn't in my job description,
he thought wryly. Suddenly, the phone rang.

Machry picked up the receiver. "Woodsbrook SPCC."

The operator's voice replied. "Henry Machry, collect call for you from a public pay phone in Ridge City, Ontario. Will you accept the charges?"

Machry was at once annoyed, mystified, and frightened. Annoyed because his long-distance payments were hell, mystified because he didn't know anyone in any place called Ridge City, and frightened because anyone calling from that far away would be in a very urgent situation.

"Alright," the operator said, "I'm putting you through."

A familiar voice spoke from the other end. "Henry Machry?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Alex Orson."

Machry dropped the receiver in shock, knocking a cup of coffee onto the floor as he fumbled to pick it back up. "Alex Orson? Is this a joke?"

"Does it sound like it's a joke?" the voice said, annoyed. Machry was instantly sure it was Alex.

"Alex. Why are you calling me? And why the hell are you in Ridge City?"

"Two reasons: It's on the way to Sawtooth, and there are people here to help me. And I'm beginning to wonder about that second one."

"But I don't know where—"

"Machry, I don't have time to answer all of your questions. I'm in a bit of a bind right now."

"Tell him about Jake," cut in a female voice Machry didn't know. For a short time they seemed to be fighting over the mouthpiece, then Alex's voice came up again. "Sorry about that."

"Are you with anyone else?" Machry asked.

"Two others. Originally three."

"What happened to the third one?"

"Long story…"

"I've got all day."

"Alright," Alex began. He gave Machry a full account of their predicament, starting with Jake's kidnapping and ending with the decision the man forced on them. "Anyway," he finished, "One of my traveling companions had the idea that we should place this guy Ordoñez, and not me, in the murderer's position."

"Actually, I might be able to help you with that." Machry tapped some keys on his computer and brought up the file on Alex. "I've met Alberto Ordoñez before. He got very violent when I refused to tell him where Roland Orson lived."

"Why didn't he just look it up?"

"Your father lives a very secretive life. He's got an unlisted phone number, address, everything."

"I see…" Alex hated his father more with everything he heard about him.

"Mr. Ordoñez, it appears, had business dealings with all three of the victims for up to years before they died. And if they involved these Moose Killers at all, we might have a motive."

"What kind of motive?"

"Picture this," Machry explained. "A man is financing the Moose Killers. He tries to back out of the deal when he learns what it is they really do. Thus, he knows too much. Ordoñez goes to meet him, pretends to help him, gets information out of him, and kills him. Pin the murders on a mysterious, somewhat famous runaway and his allies. No judge or jury wants to say otherwise because they're afraid of the same fate. No-one is any the wiser."

"That's completely evil…although you can't fault him for cleverness."

"There you go, Alex. He's got a motive, you've got none. But what's really going to save Jake is the opportunity part of it. You couldn't have been anywhere, except maybe the gas station."

"We were there."

"No problem. The point is, only Ordoñez could have gotten around so fast."

"That's true…"

"Another interesting tidbit for you. He's dead."

Alex became extremely confused when he heard this. "Dead? As in heart attack, drowned, shot, fallen off cliff dead?"

Machry scrolled through the file. "It was a car accident. His brother Raul Ordoñez brought the news to the Philadelphia police."

"See what you can find on Raul Ordoñez. I'm pretty sure his name's never appeared in print before his brother's death."

"You catch on quick, Alex. Ordoñez, right now, is about as dead as you."

"Machry, that's not funny."

"Okay, as dead as me. In the U.S., he's dead, in Canada, he's a heroic crime informant."

"What!?"

"He's been giving the police news on the evil murderer Alex Orson all over Quebec and Ontario."

"Great."

"Among other things, he told them you were going to be in Ridge City. So that's where your forced choice comes from."

"Okay. You're on the right track, Machry, but I need something hard. Something that will get Jake out of jail and keep me loaded with necessities."

"Therein lies the rub! Listen closely, Alex. The opportunity part will save everything, and here's how…"

Alex got off the phone several minutes later and gave Sarah and Anthony a full recap of the conversation. Sarah was very happy upon hearing it, but Anthony wasn't sure the evidence was quite hard enough.

"There's plenty. Anyway, what we do is go to the supplier today. Then, as Jake stands trial, right in that courthouse over there, we run in, incriminate Ordoñez, save Jake, take the goods and get the hell out of here."

Nobody was happy upon hearing what they faced, but Alex smiled as best he could. "Should we go find a hotel? I think we all need a rest." So they wandered off to find somewhere that would let them pay the next morning.

As luck would have it, the hotel on Main Street allowed them to do this. They checked in as Colin Walker, Jane Philips and Stephen Jerome and were given a room on the second floor. Alex placed the backpack in the corner. At this point, all it was carrying was the gun.

They had just gotten settled (Alex had a third bed brought to avoid having to share with anybody) when the phone rang. Sarah picked it up. "Hello?"

The concierge answered. "Room 205, someone's calling for you. I'll put them through."

Presently she heard a click and the voice on the other end changed. "Ridge City supply program, calling for Alex Orson."

Sarah handed Alex the phone. "It's for you."

Alex picked it up. "Hello?"

"Alex Orson?"

"Don't use my name! We don't know who's listening."

"Apologies. Anyway, if you're staying in a hotel, we want to meet you there. We can't keep meeting people in the same place. We might get detected."

"Detected?" Alex thought of something. "Didn't you say there was nothing illegal about what you're doing?"

The voice hesitated for a moment. "We're not illegal…but we're also not exactly legal."

"Whatever. I need your help anyway. Can you come in one hour? We're in 205. Say you're here for Colin Walker."

There was a pause here. Sounds could be heard in the background, and Alex made out two voices consulting with each other. At last the man came back online.

"If you say so. See you then."

Alex hung up, more apprehensive about this meeting than about anything else in his life.

CHAPTER 11

The Plan in its Glory

Two men from the supply program filed in about an hour later. Alex sized them up immediately. They appeared to be shifty but not necessarily completely untrustworthy, and although he needed what they had, he could not rely on them for anything beyond that. One sat down in the chair across from the door, the other chose to stand up, by the desk.

"Alright, Orson, you've been waiting for this for three weeks. We got it, too. We even got a fourth backpack together on short notice. And, we don't expect payment."

The other, in the chair, cut in. "Until you get money to pay us. Just about three hundred dollars—Canadian dollars—when you get where you're going."

Alex knew this when he signed on, of course, but he still wasn't sure about the payment. Besides the obvious sum, which to a kid is like a chest full of gold, there was something else troubling him. How did they know he was going somewhere where he planned to get a job? He considered asking them, but held his tongue; he didn't think it would get him anywhere.

"Did you get any cigarettes?" Anthony piped up.

"Where are the backpacks?" Sarah asked.

The man by the desk shifted his weight slightly. "We, um…forgot them."

"Wait a minute!" Alex said. "You spent three weeks stuffing these, and when it comes to giving them to me, you just forgot them? Isn't this your
job
?"

"Not exactly," the man in the chair replied. At this the man by the desk gave him a rather obvious signal to shut up.

Alex was notably irritated now. "Where are they, then, if they're not here?"

"At our HQ. I can assure you, they exist."

Alex calmed down, but only slightly. "Can you go get them and bring them back here?"

The man in the chair seemed very happy about this. "I was just gonna suggest that. Let's go get the bags."

As they walked off toward the door, Sarah noticed light reflecting off something inside the first man's coat. She decided not to mention it—it was probably a pair of sunglasses hanging around his neck.

Soon after she thought this, the supply program opened the door, and in walked Ordoñez.

"Thank god," he said. "I thought you'd never open it." He turned to Alex. "These men gave me a signal, see. When they opened the door again, it would be my cue to enter."

Alex had no idea what he was supposed to think. He was shocked, confused, angry, and despairing simultaneously.

He checked his position in the room and found that he was about five yards from the backpack at the wall by the door. He stood up and began slowly edging towards it. When Sarah asked what he was doing, he shushed her.

The man who had been standing by the desk removed his jacket and revealed what had glinted inside his coat: the faux-gold, overpolished metal of a police badge. "I'm Officer Jeffries. Nice to meet you. And now, the best part of the job—explaining what the supply program really is."

Ordoñez smiled his mirthless, calculating grin. "It's quite genius, and very ironic. You'll appreciate it, Alex. I was told you have a taste for such things."

"Shut up," Alex replied viciously. He was as filled with hate at that moment as it was possible for one boy to be. He checked his position: four yards.

Ordoñez laughed again—he appeared to find the whole situation incredibly funny. "Alex, you are in no position to tell me to do anything."

"Excuse me," Jeffries cut in. "Are you two finished?"

"Apologies," Ordoñez said. "Go on, officer."

Sarah and Anthony were watching the situation and reacting in their own ways: Sarah, scared but much more intent on what they would say next; Anthony, fighting to keep from leaping at Ordoñez's throat.

Jeffries cleared his throat. "The supply program was a good idea by a man who worked at the station a few years ago. This area—and the whole Quebec Transit—is a key route for drug traffickers, and since they're so good at disguising themselves, we're pretty much powerless to stop them. So this guy I mentioned, he invented an idea to lure them to us."

Alex was only half listening to Jeffries's speech, as he was much more intent on getting toward the backpack in time. He was about three yards away now. He swore under his breath, wishing he could move faster, but knowing Ordoñez would notice.

Jeffries continued. "So, these runners have usually been going for a while. They can't stop to eat or sleep, and usually their food, clothing and sometimes cars are totally unfit for another thousand miles of driving. So, we set up this supposedly underworld outfit to give them the stuff they need. Only once we give it to them, we bust 'em, and they go no further."

The other unidentified policeman spoke for the first time in a while. "It was just lucky that Ordoñez was here to tell us that you'd be going through Ridge City, and that we could use the system to bust the traveling Quebec murderers. When you originally called us, we thought you were another trafficker. We didn't know until later that you were a murderer."

"Did you ever wonder," Jeffries said, "why the police were pursuing you so lightly? Why we didn't call for a nationwide manhunt after the deaths? We knew Ridge City would bust you. We didn't think a manhunt would be worth it. And look how it's turned out! We've got the traveling Quebec murderers!"